


The Surrogate

by krysnel_nicavis



Series: The Surrogate [1]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, CSI: NY
Genre: Bromance, F/M, Friendship, Het and Slash, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, Pregnant Greg Sanders, Romance, Slash, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-19
Updated: 2009-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-21 23:32:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krysnel_nicavis/pseuds/krysnel_nicavis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg lives in a world where some men can successfully carry children. Being one of them he struggles to come to terms with the requirement he has to act as a surrogate for strangers he’ll never meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Intro:**

Since the early nineteen seventies the strange, but not unusual, natural phenomenon of successful male pregnancy has been utilized by the government for the greater good of humanity - at least that’s what they tell the public.  It also served as a way for the government to control a portion of the population growth.

As it stood couples could, for a fee, implant embryos into the womb of a “Carrier Male” effectively enabling the couple to create a family with less impact on their working lives as there had been previously.  It became a very profitable practice and over the years the cost of this ‘procedure’ dropped to a relatively low price of $5,000 (half the cost of locating a female surrogate).

Some of the regulations that were eventually put in place regarding “carrying males” (commonly referred to as merely “Carriers”) included mandatory screening (after birth) of all infants to locate the Carrier gene, the Viable Carrier Registry, and the minimum age for ‘active carrying’ which was set at seventeen.  Remarkably, these regulations were consistent nation-wide - despite its’ lack of coast-to-coast agreement in many issues, the good old US of A agreed across the board that mandatory ‘carrying’ for under seventeen and still in high school was unfair.

For the subject of this story this occurred in much the usual way.

-o0o-

He’d been seventeen the first time it happened – the usual age for this sort of thing.  It had been three days after his final exam in his San Gabriel high school in California.  He’d sighed upon seeing the company logo on the envelope, raking his hand through his short newly bleached-blonde hair.

He knew his parents had been a bit disappointed when he’d been born.  They’d tried, unsuccessfully, to conceive a child through natural means for many years before turning to the Carrier Aide Foundation (CAF) for fertility assistance.  Two attempts and $10,000 later Gregory Hojem Sanders came into the world.  Born of a male surrogate, it only slightly disappointed his biological parents that his screening revealed that he himself possessed the Carrier gene.  But they were so happy to have _any_ child that they decided against trying for another.

Being a viable Carrier wasn’t exactly frowned upon, but given the fact that it was becoming so widely available for couples to use a male surrogate many businesses and corporations were becoming more selective when hiring Carriers - some refusing to hire Carriers at all for ‘safety reasons’.  While it wasn’t uncommon for a family to ignore the Carrier gene until the child became ‘active’, it was also not unheard of for the couple to relinquish paternal rights of any or all Carrier children and raising the rest.

Luckily for Greg he lived out his childhood as any ‘normal’ child with his parents as opposed to segregated foster care for Carriers or a CAF run orphanage.

The teenage Greg had retreated to his room to read his letter in private.  His first clients, it turned out, were a married couple from the neon-glowing city of Las Vegas, Nevada.  The wife was a soon to be ex-stripper and her husband was in music management.  From the brief outline the couple chose not to have a child naturally and this would be their first one.  Greg skimmed the rest of the information noting the date and time set up for the in-vitro procedure, which would take place the next day.  When it was determined the implantation was a success and his pregnancy had survived the first trimester he be relocated to Las Vegas so it would be easier for the parents-to-be to be contacted.  Joy.

He waited until after dinner to inform his parents about his appointment the following day.  They feigned interest for a few moments before pretending it hadn’t come up.

 **Three months later:**

Greg sighed as he de-boarded the plane and stepped into the Las Vegas airport.  He felt a little queasy upon landing and hoped his morning sickness wasn’t about to come back in a full rage. He tried not to remember that part of the feeling he had was related to the fact that he wouldn’t strictly be able to join his classmates at Stanford this year – his entire education would be paid for by the Carrier Aide Foundation.  As it was he’d be doing all the theory portions of his classes through correspondence.  It was only after the birth that he would finally be permitted to attend the actual facility and complete any practical portions of the classes.  Until then he’d be set up in a cozy little apartment in Las Vegas to be nearer to the parents of the child he carried.  It seemed like everyday more and more women preferred to hire a Carrier to act as surrogate in order to maintain their jobs.

He took a slow breath to quell the nausea and collected his luggage before glancing around the exit gate.  It was nearing eight o’clock in the evening and he was getting sleepy despite napping on the plane.  He noticed the sign with his name and approached the man dressed as a chauffer. ‘Hey, I’m Greg Sanders,’ he said by way of introduction.

‘Good evening sir,’ the gentleman tipped his hat and took control of Greg’s luggage cart (most of it containing books for his studies - classes started in two weeks). ‘If you’ll just follow me.’ One car ride later found him outside a moderately comfortable looking apartment complex standing in front of a man who looked to be a CAF representative.

‘Good evening, Mr Sanders,’ the man greeted. ‘My name is Paul Weiss, I’ll be your CAF rep.’ Greg nodded and shook the man’s hand before following Mr Weiss into the complex and to what would be his home for the next six months.

‘As you are aware, you will reside at this residence for roughly the next six months until you give birth,’ Mr Weiss explained and Greg nodded. ‘And I don’t need to remind you that it is your responsibility to take care of yourself and not get into any trouble. After all, the child you carry is not yours,’ the man smiled and Greg gave a forced grin. ‘In case you forget any rules or regulations there is a booklet with all the information you need right here on the coffee table. My contact information is written on the inside cover. If you have any questions or concerns don’t hesitate to call, we don’t want any problems. There is also a business card of mine on your fridge along with the list of scheduled doctor visits.  The cabinets and fridge are fully stocked, a nutritional booklet is on the kitchen counter and all the pre-natal vitamins you need at present are in the bathroom medicine cabinet,’ Mr Weiss rattled off. ‘Now, do you have any questions for me before I leave?’

‘Nope,’ Greg said as the chauffer who’d driven him from the airport brought in the last of his luggage.

‘Alright Mr Sanders, here’s your keys.’ He handed them to Greg. ‘Oh, I almost forgot.’ Weiss walked over to the television and opened the cabinet beneath it.  He extracted a black duo tang and walked back over to Greg. ‘Here is all the information about the parents-to-be that you will need to know.’ He set it on the coffee table next to the information booklet. ‘I hope you enjoy your stay. I’ll talk to you soon.’ They shook hands once more and Weiss left.  Once the door clicked and Greg locked it he settled onto the couch and sighed.

‘Home,’ he said in a decidedly melancholy voice.  He wondered about the parents of this child.  He sat up and grabbed the duo tang from the table in front of him.  Sitting back he opened it in his lap.  The first page showed a photo of a strawberry blonde woman with deep blue eyes and a brunette man with lighter blue eyes.  The caption under the photo read “Catherine and Eddie Willows”.  From the photo they seemed nice enough.  He studied the photo for a while before flipping through the pages.  There wasn’t a whole lot.  Just contact information for the couple - work numbers, addresses, emergency contacts, and so on.  He was intelligent enough to realize that the information wasn’t necessary for his use and was more to remind him of his current responsibilities.  He flipped the duo tang shut and dropped it back onto the table.  He glanced around the room and his gaze fell on his luggage piled off to one side.  He sighed again and went to the boxes and bags to search for his pyjamas and get ready for bed.

As he lay under the covers he felt a sense of emptiness creep over him.  He suddenly felt small and alone in this strange city.

-o0o-

 

Greg pressed the ‘power’ button on his television remote and tossed it onto the couch beside him.  He stretched and glanced at the clock hanging above the doorway leading to the kitchen.  It was nine o’clock in the evening.  He grinned and stood to search for his shoes and jacket.

Exiting his apartment complex he glanced around, making sure there were no recognizable CAF agents.  He was on a mission.  A very secret mission.  A mission of great importance.

He took the now familiar route to the nearest convenience store.  Having quickly tired of eating nothing but health food, Greg’s cravings became near impossible to ignore.  He’d been in Las Vegas for two weeks and in that time he’d made numerous trips to the same convenience store in search of an item he regularly ‘smuggled’ back to his apartment: mint chocolate chip ice cream.

While Greg was not confined to the apartment, and frequently found time between pre-course readings of textbooks to mingle with the locals, there were still certain restrictions placed on him.  One was a requirement to eat healthily.  It was on his way back home that he came across a young man in a baseball cap wearing a backpack wandering and looking hopelessly lost.  Normally Greg found it better to keep to himself while wandering the streets of Sin City.  But looking at this man Greg couldn’t help but feel for him – strangely in more ways than one.

‘You look lost, stranger,’ Greg smiled softly.  The square jawed man turned anxious, and even sad, brown eyes to him.

‘That would probably be ‘cause I am,’ a Texan accent replied.

‘Well no wonder, you sound pretty far from home.’

The man grinned. ‘Is it that obvious?’

‘Nah,’ Greg shrugged. ‘Just, well, a lot.’ The Texan’s grin widened and he looked bashful.  Greg thought it was cute – something he’d never thought of in regards to another man before.

‘You want some company for a bit as you wander?’ Greg offered suddenly. ‘Might help you get re-oriented.’

The stranger looked hesitant before nodding. ‘Sure,’ he replied with a small smile still on his lips. ‘I’d love that.’ The two began walking in the direction of Greg’s apartment. ‘I’m Nick, by the way. Nick Stokes.’

Greg shook the man’s hand. ‘Greg Sanders, pleased to meet you.’

-o0o-

Greg could safely say he’d never, not in any of his seventeen years on this earth, ever felt anything other than platonic for members of the same gender.  Not once.  Until now.

In later years he wouldn’t be able to recall exactly how it was that the man he’d only just met ended up in his apartment.  But he would clearly remember the gentle way the Texan caressed his skin.  The butterfly kisses he’d felt tracing their way down his jaw line, his neck, his chest.  He would remember the feel of the older man’s skin as Greg removed his shirt, Greg running his hands over the man’s naked shoulders.

He’d remember feeling the chilled traces of mint ice cream on his chest followed by the delicious burn of his lover’s tongue.  He’d remember the taste of the same ice cream mixed with the taste of the man’s skin.

Maybe it had something to do with him not having been this intimate with another person since before Christmas in his senior year in high school.  Maybe it was the isolation he’d felt since the letter arrived months ago.  Or maybe it was even his current condition.

He’d never before felt the excitement triggered by this southern man’s touch.  Without thought he wrapped his legs around the man’s waist and moaned wantonly.  He pulled the man as close to him as possible, raking his nails down his partner’s back eliciting heated moans from the man’s throat.  They moved together in the rhythm of an erotic symphony.  Its’ crescendos nearly made him lose consciousness a few times.  His lover didn’t miss a single beat.  With the pounding of his own heart the last crash of a cymbal brought them both to the brink of oblivion.  Not for the first time that evening his hushed voice breathed his lover’s name before he tasted the man’s breath mingled with his own.

-o0o-

It was now early February and Greg couldn’t say he didn’t feel fortunate that he wasn’t physically attending the Stanford campus at the given point in time.  He was only a few weeks away from his due date and quite frankly felt about the same size as his entire apartment complex.  He wasn’t exactly sure how it was that he could even fit through the door.  His doctor had repeatedly assured him that his weight was normal and there was nothing to fret about but he couldn’t help it.  Despite all this he felt guilty for looking forward to having his body back – for however long that may be.

He was going for a stroll this afternoon to the same old convenience store that he’d purchased his contraband ice cream from in search of some other craving food that he was currently in need of.  He was distracted by idle thought and didn’t sense the danger until it was too late.

Lately in the area where he lived the youth gang activity had risen.  It was only a slight increase but it was noticeable.  There were a number of incidences where an unsuspecting pedestrian became the focus of the gang’s attention.  In some cases the unlucky individual required some form of medical attention but it usually wasn’t anything serious.  However, as his CAF rep would remind him if he were there, the child within him wasn’t his and he should always be on guard.

The first thing he became aware of was the circle of teenagers surrounding him.  He looked at them uneasy.  The second thing was the taunts.  They called him things like ‘breeder’ and ‘freak’.  He tried to pass them by but they wouldn’t let him go.  After a few attempts they began to shove him.  Not hard enough to knock him over but enough to make him nervous.  He heard their laughter the entire time.  It suddenly looked as though they were going to let him go when he felt one of the teens behind him shove hard into his lower back.  He overbalanced and fell forward, landing hard on his knees.  It surprised him when the top half of him landed on something soft.

‘Just what in the _hell_ do you clowns think you’re doing?’ and angry male voice asked. ‘Do any of you have even the slightest clue the consequences of your actions here?’ Greg heard murmurs but couldn’t make out anything tangible, instead focusing on ignoring the pain shooting through his knees. ‘You lot clear out before I decide to call the cops.’ It didn’t take long for the sound of their sneakers pounding the pavement to fade away.  He leaned back to look at his saviour. ‘Hey, are you alright?’ the man asked.

Greg looked into his green eyes and nodded. ‘Yeah, I think so.’ He took in the chocolate colour of the man’s skin and the chiselled angles of the man’s face.  He looked like someone who belonged on the streets of Las Vegas.  Not in the sense of a gang member or a homeless person, but rather someone who’d been born and raised to understand the deeper functions of the city.  Even at first glance it was obvious that the young man who’d come to his rescue was a genuine home-grown Vegas native. ‘Thanks,’ Greg said as the man helped him back onto his clumsy feet.

‘Hey, no problem,’ them man waved his hand as if to say his thanks was unnecessary. ‘Just doin’ what I can.’

‘Kinda makes me wish I never left the house,’ Greg chuckled and he man grinned.

‘What, and miss the chance to meet me?’

Greg grinned back. ‘I think I’ll just head back home and sleep this off.’

‘Would you like me to walk you back?’

‘Oh, no. I’ll be fine. It’s only a couple streets over,’ Greg assured. ‘But thank you.’

‘Like I said, no problem.’ The man began to walk away but stopped and turned back. ‘I’m Warrick.’

‘Greg.’ The two shook hands.

‘See you ‘round, Greg,’ Warrick gave a friendly smile.

‘You too, Warrick,’ Greg nodded and also smiled before the two went on their ways.

-o0o-

Six months had passed and he still thought of it.  Every time he closed his eyes he remembered it.  He’d been prepared for everything else, but he hadn’t been prepared for that.

When he arrived back at his apartment after being saved by the man known only as Warrick he’d felt sharp pains in his lower back.  They’d quickly become sharper and made it hard for him to remain standing.  Panicked, he’d phoned the number for his doctor.  An hour later he was in an ambulance on the way to a hospital.  He’d gone into premature labour.  The doctor didn’t seem worried as he was only three weeks early which, he was told for the first time, was within the normal range that Carriers went into labour – premature labour in Carriers was expected to occur between two and six weeks early.  Despite the birthing classes he’d attended he was alarmed at the proceedings.

The pains were irregular and sharp.  He sometimes couldn’t get his breathing under control and his heart would race.  Nothing about it felt right.  After seven hours of this confusion the doctor decided that the best thing to do was perform a caesarean section and remove the child before something went seriously wrong.

Trying to temper the anxiety Greg only remembered being brought into an operating room of some kind and having his arms lightly restrained straight out on either side of him.  A divider was put up to prevent him from seeing anything the doctor and nurses were doing.  He didn’t remember feeling any pain but he did remember what he heard.  There was a worried tone in the doctor’s voice as he barked orders to the nurses around the room.  For a while he heard the doctor and nurses rushing about, doing god knows what.  Then he heard silence.

It was the longest silence he’d ever heard.  Then quite suddenly he heard a coughing sound, followed by a slightly strangled cry.  Soon the crying got stronger, and louder.  Everyone around sounded happy.

After this the cries of the baby faded from the room and before he knew it Greg was being wheeled into the recovery room.  No one explained what had happened.  After a couple days he was released from the hospital and soon after he arrived at his apartment a CAF representative delivered a manila envelope.  In side the envelope was a check for $4000 in his name – the high amount apparently an incentive to encourage Carriers to continue services after their mandatory pregnancies – and a few documents outlining what was to happen next.  There were arraignments being made for him to be transferred to San Francisco in two days.  There he would finish the theory portion of his Stanford schooling and obtain a prearranged job.

Curled up on the couch of his San Francisco apartment for the first time, he felt more alone than ever before.  He felt cold inside.  He idly rested a hand on his slightly deflated stomach and felt nothing more than the ache from the scalpel incision.  He didn’t think it would hurt him so much.  Not the physical aspect of it all but the emotional.  He knew somehow that none of it should have surprised him.  It wasn’t his child, after all.  He had no real attachment to it.  But he honestly hadn’t expected them to just take it away like that, as though he wasn’t a factor in the child’s existence.

He didn’t even know if it was a boy or a girl.

-o0o-

Greg sighed and opened his eyes just as the small bell attached to the top corner of the door chimed to let him know a customer had just entered the shop.  It was a small bookshop in San Francisco that offered small selections of a variety of both fictional and non-fictional books.  He’d been working as a cashier here since he’d been re-located from Las Vegas.  He found he liked his job.  It was calm and quiet.

He looked up to find an attractive woman with long, straight brown hair who looked to be a few years older than him.  She was dressed in blue jeans and a sky blue tank top.  The woman pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head unveiling dark brown eyes.

‘Good afternoon,’ Greg greeted. ‘Welcome to Langham’s Book Nook.’

The young woman’s smile revealed a bit of a gap between her two front teeth. ‘Hi. Could you point me in the direction of the crime and mystery novels?’

‘Yep. They’re in the second to last section along that far wall. There’ll be a big sign with red letters. Can’t miss it,’ he replied with a smile.

‘Thanks.’ She headed off in the indicated direction.  He watched her disappear behind a bookshelf before turning back to the chemistry textbook that was sitting in front of him.  He was reviewing the material he’d need for the practical portions of his Stanford classes, which started in three weeks. ‘The influence of viruses on human cells, interesting.’

Greg started and looked up to see the smiling young woman standing in front of him. ‘Sorry, didn’t hear you coming,’ he grinned shyly.

‘That’s okay,’ she said as he rang in her purchases. ‘I’m Sara Sidle.’

‘Greg Sanders, pleased to meet you,’ he replied. ‘And that’ll be $21.36.’

Sara handed him a couple bills. ‘So what university you going to?’

‘That would be Stanford,’ Greg said and handed her change and receipt over before placing her books into a plastic bag. ‘What about you?’

‘That would be Berkeley.’

‘Cool.’

‘Well, I should be heading off. It was nice to meet you, Greg,’ Sara said as she took her bag from him.

‘It was nice to meet you too, Sara,’ Greg flashed a last smile.

\- 30 -


	2. Part II

Twenty-two year old Greg Sanders stood in the window of his small Manhattan apartment.  He’d graduated from Stanford four months ago and was currently awaiting the opportunity to attend various lectures and procedural classes he was required to take in order to be able to work in a crime lab, which would be available periodically over the next six months – one of which was a forensics conference.  Just like when he’d graduated high school, Greg had received a letter from the Carrier Aide Foundation.  This time the prospective parents lived in Manhattan – the father-to-be commuted to and from downtown New York for work and the mother-to-be was an up-and-coming artist who also ran an interior decorating company.  Their apartment was located above the studio she used for her artwork and business.

He’d been living alone in the two bedroom apartment for about a month awaiting the arrival of a roommate who was also a Carrier.  All he knew about the guy was that he was eighteen and this was his first pregnancy.  He flipped the blue duo tang in his hands closed.  He’d been reviewing the information file of his current clients, Lauren and Alexander Magliocchi, purely out of not knowing what to do at the moment.  Looking at his watch he went to his room and stored the duo tang in a desk drawer on top of the old black one from Vegas.  His new roommate would be arriving any minute.  Just as he was placing the milk carton back into the fridge there was a knock on the door.  He took a drink from his glass before answering.

‘Good afternoon Mr. Sanders, I hope I find you well.’ The suited woman on the other side of the door didn’t at all sound like she meant the sentiment.

Greg cleared his throat and stepped aside. ‘Greg is fine, and why don’t you come in.’ The woman entered followed by a tall, and rather nervous looking, teenage boy.

‘I’m running late. These are the relevant documents for your roommate. I’ll let you explain how this works,’ she said this in a clipped voice not bothering with an introduction and handed a manila envelope to Greg. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me.’ She turned and left the two alone.

Greg blinked at the closed door. ‘Well, ‘hello’ to you too,’ he said sarcastically before turning to the boy standing next to him.  He was an inch or two taller than Greg with wavy medium length brown hair.  At the moment he seemed to be extremely interested in the pattern of the living room rug.  Greg cleared his throat and the boy glanced up with scared blue eyes. ‘Hi, my name’s Greg Sanders,’ he extended his hand.

The boy looked at it before shaking it. ‘I’m Don.’

‘Got a last name Don?’

‘Uh, Flack.’

Greg nodded. ‘Don Flack. Nice to meet you.’ Don gave a tiny grin and looked back at the rug. ‘How about I show you to your room and you can settle in. We can go over this later if you want,’ he indicated the envelope in his hands.

‘Sure.’ Greg nodded and led the way.  A few hours later Greg ordered the two of them Chinese food and he went through the micro-orientation that the snippy woman earlier should have given Don.

‘My father never liked the idea that I was a Carrier,’ Don confessed as they lounged in the living room.  The take-away trays from dinner had been tossed in the garbage chute in the hall to “hide the evidence” as Greg had mischievously put it.

‘My parents weren’t too thrilled either,’ Greg nodded. ‘But I was their only child so they ignored the issue until it actually became an issue. What about you?’

‘Well my dad’s a New York cop,’ Don replied in his native New Yorker accent. ‘Just like his father and his father before him pretty much all the way back to the founding of the police department.’ He took a sip of Sunny D orange juice. ‘He knew a guy who arranged for me to go through the academy before my first CAF assignment. He was afraid that priors in this world would hurt my chances before I even had a shot in that one.’

‘That’s tough,’ Greg said. ‘But what happens later? I mean we each have a required minimum of three. And all three must be successful before we’re allowed to submit an application to call it quits.’

Don shrugged. ‘I’m already a cop. I was on the force for a couple months before my first assignment.’ Greg didn’t comment on the way the young man referred to his pregnancy; as though he was trying to disassociate himself as much as possible.

-o0o-

He found the lecture on larvae maturation in reference to decomposition rates interesting enough.  The man giving the lecture was Dr. Gil Grissom, a noted entomologist.

‘Mr. Sanders, I’ve spoken with some of your instructors here and they tell me you’re interested in working in a crime lab,’ Dr. Grissom said as the two sat on a bench outside the lecture hall at NYU.

‘Yes sir,’ Greg confirmed.  The two had begun a conversation at the end of the lecture.  After finding out the man worked in a crime lab Greg was itching to talk with him but nervous about it at the same time.

‘From what they say you’ll soon be fully qualified for a job as a lab technician.’

‘Yes. I just need to attend one more lecture and pass my final proficiency exam,’ Greg clarified. ‘Well, aside from the obvious,’ he indicated the swell of his stomach where the Magliocchi child was currently sleeping.

‘May I ask when you’re due?’

‘Three days ago.’

‘Three days?’ Dr. Grissom looked surprised. ‘That’s rare in male pregnancies.’

Greg was taken a little aback by Dr. Grissom’s choice of phrase. ‘Thank you.’

‘For what?’

‘Most people don’t refer to us by gender. Especially while we’re obviously carrying.’

‘I’m a scientist, Mr. Sanders. I prefer to take a different approach to things than what society tells me I should,’ Dr. Grissom gave him a small grin. ‘Now I wish you luck with everything and hope you find what you’re looking for.’

-o0o-

‘So how was the lecture?’ Don asked from his seat on the couch in front of the television.  He was five weeks away from his due date and was keen for the whole experience to be over and done with.

‘Interesting enough I suppose,’ Greg replied as he removed his jacket. ‘Course, I’ll definitely never look at insects quite the same way.’ Don gave a good natured chuckle.

The two had gone a long way to becoming friends.  Even before Don had arrived at the apartment months earlier Greg had made the decision to make sure his young roommate was as fully prepared for what was to come as soon as possible.  He explained the likelihood of the baby being born early as well as what would happen immediately after it was born.  If Greg had it his way no Carrier would ever find it out the hard way.

Don fidgeted in his seat and complained about. ‘Damn it, I swear I haven’t been able to get comfortable for _hours_. My back keeps protesting.’

‘How do you mean?’ Greg asked as he fished a bottle of apple juice out of the fridge.

‘It gets all cramped for a few seconds and no matter how I move around it doesn’t make it feel much better,’ Don tried to explain and Greg frowned. ‘It’s getting worse.’

‘What about more frequent?’

‘Well, there’s that too.’

‘Don, I think you’re in labour.’ The young New Yorker looked startled.

‘W-what?’ he squeaked.

Greg recognized the panic in the younger man’s eyes and immediately tried to ease it. ‘Don, calm down. This is completely normal, everything’s going to be okay.’ He picked up the phone and dialled the number on the fridge, requesting an ambulance.

Four hours later Greg found himself in a delivery room.  The excitement surrounding transporting Don the hospital had induced his own labour.  From what he was able to understand before he started pushing Don’s own labour was progressing slowly but it seemed he wouldn’t require a c-section.  Greg’s, on the other hand, had progressed rapidly.  Given the nature of his first delivery the doctor figured all Greg’s pregnancies would result in rapidly developing labour.

Another hour later and Greg was recuperating in a hospital room with two beds awaiting news on Don.  He wasn’t sure whether to be surprised or not that this time, while it still hurt emotionally, it was easier to bear.  He fell asleep and when he awoke the lights were out and there was another person in the next bed.  It took him a moment to realize what had stirred him from sleep.

Don was in the bed next to him, his back turned to Greg, and from the sound of it he was trying to get a hold of his tears.  Ignoring the protests of his aching body Greg eased himself up from his bed and shuffled over to Don’s.  Without saying anything he eased himself down next to the younger man.  With a little difficulty Don turned around and latched onto Greg’s hospital gown, practically sobbing into Greg’s chest.  Greg held his young roommate close, consoling him with his presence.

-o0o-

After six years they still exchanged e-mails a couple times a month.  The now twenty-four year old Don Flack had gone through his second successful pregnancy two years prior.  He’d admitted the second time had been easier for him to handle.  Greg sighed as he read the most recent e-mail from his former roommate.  Don was already in the middle of going through his third and final required ‘tour-of-duty’ as the younger man had explained it.  Greg glanced down at his own stomach where an eleven week old foetus was currently calling its’ home.  He looked back at the computer screen and, after a few clicks of his mouse, began tapping out a response on the keyboard.  He hit the ‘send’ button and logged off.  He took one last pull from the water bottle before depositing it in the recycling bin and returning to his lab.

As it turned out after he’d completed all his requirements to become fully qualified to become a lab technician he’d received a phone call from the Lab Director of the Las Vegas Police Department.  It seemed they were in need of a replacement DNA technician on nightshift as their current one was getting ready to retire and Greg had come very highly recommended – something that a certain entomologist later conspicuously denied having any part in.

When he first arrived at the lab the only person he knew was Dr. Grissom – who insisted on being called merely Grissom.  However, Greg’s first big surprise came in the form of a certain strawberry blonde whose face he’d only ever seen in a photograph that was currently inside an old black duo tang stashed in a desk drawer at home.  He recognized Catherine Willows the moment he’d laid eyes on her.  Obviously she had no idea who he was as they’d never met and it was CAF policy that prospective parents receive no information on the Carriers who birth their children – reasoning being it was safer for the Carrier in case something went wrong.

His second surprise came while he was taking a five minute break in the break room his first day.  He hadn’t recognized the man at first.  He was tall with dark brown skin, chiselled facial features, and a short afro.  It wasn’t until the man introduced himself and Greg got a good look at his green eyes that Greg recognized him.  The man’s name was Warrick Brown and Greg remembered their chance meeting that occurred almost four years prior. Warrick didn’t immediately recognize him either.  At the time Greg had still had mostly bleached-blonde hair and was only seventeen.  He also hadn’t yet gone through the emotional turmoil that came with giving birth, the effect made him look a lot older.

The single biggest surprise he could ever have received came nearly three quarters through his first shift.  Working with Grissom, Catherine, and Warrick was one thing.  Having to work every night with this person was most likely going to prove to be something else entirely.  Greg had always considered himself to be straight as an arrow.  However, even after one night four years before, the person who walked into his lab made his knees quiver.  He wasn’t sure what shocked him more: the fact that Nick Stokes, the only man in the universe he would ever have any remotely sexual inclinations for, had just walked back into his life, or the fact that he immediately saw recognition in the older man’s soft brown eyes.  The two managed to work around one another without the memory of that one night interfering and they ended up slowly becoming friends.

Three years after he started another blast – or rather, ‘pop’ – from his past re-entered the scene.  It was the attractive woman with brown hair and slightly gap-toothed smile from the bookshop he’d worked at after his first successful delivery, Sara Sidle. ‘I see Stanford worked out well for you,’ she’d said upon remembering him.  It seemed possible the two could become friends.  Greg and all the CSIs were certainly friendly enough, though it usually ended up being in a putting up with an annoying little brother sort of way.

Back in his lab after e-mailing Don, Greg was busy mixing solvents to analyze one of the many DNA samples.  He turned his back on the fume hood before he smelled it.  It was like burning plastic.  It was in the process of him turning back to see what was burning that Greg’s world turned into flames and shattered glass.  He glanced around and his dazed mind registered Sara down the hall picking herself up off the floor before everything went black.  Next thing he was aware of was a slightly blurred vision of the world moving vertically and then he was aware of nothing.

He drowsily opened his eyes and saw a familiar figure next to his bed.  A second later he was aware of a dull ache emanating from his back.

‘Welcome back, man,’ Don grinned softly from his seat next to Greg’s hospital bed. ‘Was beginning to worry you wouldn’t snap out of it any time soon.’

Greg noticed the swell in the man’s stomach and vaguely remembered the e-mail he’d read… earlier?  He groaned a bit. ‘What happened?’

Don’s eyes looked sad. ‘There was an accident. Your lab exploded and you were thrown through a sheet of glass.’

‘What’s wrong?’

Don stayed silent for a while. ‘I talked with your CAF rep when I got here. You were eleven weeks.’

Greg frowned. ‘Were?’

‘Doctor says your back will take a while to fully heal. In some spots there was significant tissue damage,’ Don explained.

‘Don, what aren’t you saying?’ Greg asked, almost afraid of the answer.

The young New Yorker stayed silent for a moment. ‘The glass was kind of thick. Because of the blast you impacted it pretty hard,’ Don relented.

‘Don?’ Greg’s voice was small and hushed.

Don looked at his hands. ‘I’m sorry Greg.’ Greg’s eyes burned and his vision blurred.  He felt Don’s hand take his in a comforting gesture and remembers when it had once been the reverse.  The younger man consoled his friend the best he could without aggravating his wounds as the former Californian came to terms with the painful realization.

-o0o-

Greg was emotionally exhausted when Catherine and Warrick questioned him about what he remembered about the explosion.  He answered their questions as best he could but wished he could just be left alone in his gloomy state.  He wasn’t as affected by the news that Catherine took the blame for the explosion as he thought he should have been.  Back at the lab his coworkers assumed it was only the explosion that caused the change in his behaviour.  While he admitted it was a big factor in his attitude he carefully guarded the one thing that he felt made it all seem worse.

It was a year and a half after the lab explosion.  Before it happened he’d been eleven weeks pregnant with his last required surrogate child.  After… he hated thinking of after.  The result of his previous two deliveries had weighed heavily on his heart, but neither weighed down on him more than the knowledge of the child he truly had lost.

He’d recently received another letter from CAF.  He distained it.  After what happened in the explosion he didn’t want to go through with it again.  He didn’t think he could be emotionally strong enough.  But legally he had no choice.  He was required to successfully go through with it at least one more time.  Because he hadn’t made it to three months he had no idea whose child it had been.  He stiffly walked into the building where a new foetus would be inserted inside his body for hopefully the last time.  He was done with this world.

-o0o-

The first four months were easy to hide.  He’d informed Grissom, of course, and Warrick.  But in the lab they were the only two to know of his status as a “viable Carrier” – a Carrier who was registered as an available surrogate.  Respecting his wishes they stayed silent about his condition until the time when Greg would no longer be able to keep it quiet.  He was sure that as the swell in his abdomen gradually grew with the child during the following two months that people would begin noticing.  To his surprise only one person did.

Sara had quickly become one of his best friends.  He enjoyed being paired up with her on cases.  In some ways he felt that the others often lost patience with him but she’d taken it upon herself to become his mentor and helped him out as much as she could.  He was roughly five and a half months along when she asked him about it.

The two had just left the diner that the team often ate at.  Its main attraction to the CSI’s was that it was cheap but the food was pretty good too.  They’d been on a lunch break and were driving back to the lab when she’d asked.

‘So, Greg, I was wondering something about you,’ she’d said as she navigated the roads.

‘Oh? And what was that?’

‘Well, let’s just say that you’ve been looking different lately,’ she shrugged.

‘Different? That’s putting it nicely,’ he grinned sadly as he glanced at the streets they passed through.

‘I don’t want to offend you. I’m sorry if I-’

‘No, it’s okay,’ he interjected. ‘I’m kind of glad you brought it up.’ He stayed silent for a few breaths. ‘I’m a Carrier,’ he admitted softly. ‘Only Griss and Warrick know.’

‘How many does this one make?’ She asked gently.

‘Technically it would be four, but so far it’s officially three.’

‘How far along?’

‘Almost six months.’ He sighed. ‘I’ll be glad when it’s over. I don’t think I can do it anymore.’

‘May I ask what you meant by it technically being four?’

Greg took a slow breath. ‘I lost one,’ he stated simply. ‘The last one. In the lab explosion.’

They drove in silence for a few minutes before Sara pulled into the lab’s parking lot. She cut the engine. ‘I’m sorry Greg.’

‘Why?’

‘That you had to go through that. Did anyone know about it before the explosion?’

‘No. These things aren’t official until the second trimester. We’re advised to keep it quiet until then,’ he explained. ‘Honestly I think it’s for the best that no one knows.’

Sara nodded. ‘It’s safe with me.’ She gave him a sad smile and squeezed his hand, both of which he returned.

‘There’s something else I want you to keep secret,’ he said and she nodded. ‘I didn’t know at the time but after I started working at the lab I found out that the first child I carried was Lindsay Willows.’ Sara looked surprised.

‘Catherine’s Lindsay?’

‘Yeah. Crazy huh?’ he shrugged. ‘Catherine doesn’t know it was me. The parents never know. Wanna hear something else crazy?’

‘Crazier than that?’

‘I was almost attacked by a youth gang when I was pregnant with her. A green-eyed African-American guy named Warrick interrupted and rescued me.’

‘Warrick?’ If Sara looked surprised before she looked absolutely gob-smacked now. ‘As in Warrick Brown?’

‘Yeah. That’s why he knows about me.’

‘How does Grissom know?’

‘I met him in New York near the end of my second assignment.’

Sara thought for a moment. ‘What about Nick? Did you ever meet him before?’ Greg blushed at this. ‘You did!’

‘Yeah, I met him once before. Of all of you he was actually the first one I met.’

‘You’ve _got_ to tell me,’ Sara turned in her seat so she faced him completely with a determined look on her face.

Greg smiled embarrassedly. ‘Well… okay. Here’s what happened. I’d been transferred to Las Vegas probably two weeks before ‘cause this is where Cath lived. I went to the store and picked up some ice cream and on my way back I came across this guy who looked completely lost. I started talking to him and we introduced ourselves, and I offered to walk with him for a bit.’

‘So that’s it?’ Sara grinned. ‘Or is there more?’

Greg cleared his throat. ‘You’ve got to swear to me you’ll _never_ let anyone even _guess_ that you have this information. _Especially_ Nick.’

‘I swear, I’ll never let a single soul even suspect I know what you’re about to tell me.’

‘Alright, I trust you…’

-o0o-

Two weeks later Nick went missing at a crime scene.  It took twenty-four sleepless, stress-filled hours to find him but in the end they did.  He spent a few weeks in the hospital before being granted a three month sabbatical in place of medical leave to give him adequate time to recover.  Greg wasn’t sure if he should be surprised by the fact that Catherine never noticed he was pregnant.  He supposed he shouldn’t be due to the fact that she and Warrick were still working swing shift until replacements could be found.  Then they, along with Nick, would be transferred back to nights.  Greg successfully delivered four weeks early – it went quickly as his first two had but went smoothly.  The following month Nick returned.

‘Hey Nick,’ Warrick greeted the Texan as he entered the locker room.  Greg waved from where he sat on the bench tying his work shoes. ‘How you feeling?’

‘Better,’ Nick admitted and opened his own locker.

‘How’s it feel to be starting back on the nightshift?’ Greg asked with a grin.

Nick thought for a moment. ‘Actually, it feels normal,’ he grinned back. ‘It’s nice feeling normal again.’

-o0o-

He wasn’t quite sure when it started but every so often he became more aware of it.  He’d feel it when he watched the other man.  When he saw him smile.  When he watched him analyse something at a scene.  And especially, when he heard the man had punched a guy across the crime scene tape for making a comment about him.  But every time he felt it he quashed it.  Try as he might Greg Sanders was undeniably falling in love with his best friend aside from Sara Sidle.  He was falling in love with Nick Stokes.

In retrospect it wasn’t hard to believe.  Thinking back he realized they’d always flirted with each other, be it plays on words or little touches or mini-games.  But Greg had to admit that despite how much they may have flirted Nick was never inclined to allow it to go remotely beyond that.

It was during the case concerning what Greg had dubbed the Green Man when he realized just how hard a pill that was to swallow.  Greg had explained to Nick how the Kermit song ‘It’s Not Easy Being Green’ had gotten stuck in his head and that he was surprised with being able to remember all the lyrics.  Nick had responded with ‘Life sure is strange, ain’t it, bro?’ (1)  The statement had hit him hard.  It was in that moment Greg realized exactly where he stood in Nick’s life.  He’d have to make due.

-o0o-

A thirty-three year old Greg Sanders sat on the edge of his bed.  His elbows rested on his knees and he was wringing his hands together.

A lot had changed in the past three years.  First Sara had been kidnapped by the Miniature Killer and her secret relationship with Grissom came out into the open.  Then for personal reasons she left the crime lab, and Las Vegas.  Soon a new face was added to the nightshift in the form of Ms. Riley Adams.  The following year Warrick died, shot in the throat.  Another year later and Grissom retired.  Last Greg heard he’d made his way down to Costa Rica and reunited with the love of his life.  Shortly after, Dr. Raymond Langston joined the team.  And over three months ago Nick had a case involving the death of a young girl whose parents managed a motel.

Over the course of a year Nick had had a number of cases at the same motel – the first visit resulting in Greg crawling into a crawl space where a decomposing body was found, much to his annoyance which made him threaten to keep the gift card he’d gotten Nick for his birthday.  Each time Nick had a case at that motel he was granted a glimpse into the young girl’s life, and each time he’d witness her change.  Her death struck a cord in his soul and he broke down.  Later, after shift, Greg had accompanied him home to console him.  The two had ended up in bed.

It was just as amazing as Greg remembered it.  But this time, sixteen years later, Greg found himself anxiously awaiting the results of a test.  The timer on his watch went off and he nervously stood, slowly making his way into the bathroom.  Reading the results he took a shaky breath and set it down on the counter.

He went back to the bedroom and picked up the receiver of his phone and dialled the familiar number. ‘Hey Greg, what’s up?’ Nick’s voice sounded through the earpiece.

Greg shut his eyes and swallowed. ‘I have to talk to you…’

\- 30 -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Footnotes:  
> (1) Green man case refers to the CSI: Crime Scene Investigation novel “Nevada Rose” by Jerome Preisler.


End file.
